Gently As She Goes
by Eymxil
Summary: For a butler, his first and foremost responsibility is to his master, and lastly to himself. His life is dedicated to the success of his prince. Claude knows these lessons, and has seen to his duty even at the price of his own happiness. It is not his place to covet what is rightfully Prince Wilfred's, and so he will love her in an untouchable silence that he will never reveal.


**Gently As She Goes**

Claude has just begun to set out late afternoon tea when she steps into his line of vision. From the manner in which she is standing with her head tilted in a curious manner and upper body leaning forward around the corner of the kitchen walls he can only assume that she is either seeking one of the staff out or attempting to conceal her presence, perhaps both. A peculiarity given that she has free reign of the castle grounds so long as she has seen to her formal duties as designer to the royal family of the Phillip Kingdom.

Standing as she is with her back to him, the butler highly doubts that she has taken present notice of his company however; he is content, for the moment, to leave her to her devices as he instead focuses upon measuring out the torrid water into a porcelain teacup. She is an unusual female in his opinion, no doubt in part due to her background as a commoner rather than a noble woman, but she has well proven her worth to Prince Wilfred and earned her keep in the castle since her arrival.

When he turns to find that she has still yet to move he raises an eyebrow. It had taken two minutes to prepare the tea and five to arrange a plate of macaroons. He does not possess the ability to fathom what she is doing or why, but his interest have been piqued. In one hand he balances the tray, holding it at a distance in which it will not topple over should she step back into him, and with a small smile he leans down to whisper near her ear, "May I inquire as to what you are doing?"

As predicted, she jumps back into his chest with a terrified squeal, nearly tripping over herself in her rush to face her unknown intruder. Her eyes are wide like that of a child caught with her hand in the biscuit tin long before dinner has begun, and there is a slight flush to her cheeks as she stumbles over something incoherent. Claude has to fight to silence his amused chuckle as he straightens to readjust the slightly jostled saucer and macaroons. She takes advantage of his momentary pause to visibly calm.

"Claude." In the syllable of his name he catches traces of her alarm at his unexpected presence. He is clearly the last person that she had been expecting to run into on this particular day or, at the very least, this moment. "I didn't realize you were in the kitchens." An unnecessary statement as her reaction had spoken more than words could. "What are you doing here?" The question is accompanied by what he can only describe as a sullen pout that nearly draws a smile from his lips. A less understanding man would have taken offense from her response.

Hiding his amusement in the subtleness of his smirk, he continues to rearrange the contents of the tray. "If you must know, I was attending to my duties…" In his tone there is an elusive hint of teasing concerning the simple matter that she has spent the last ten minutes hiding in the kitchens for unknown reasons rather than designing an evening gown for Her Highness as instructed. "…of which entails that I bring Prince Wilfred his afternoon tea and snack as he is busy attending to paperwork." Following his words, he watches as her flush deepens and eyebrows scrunch.

She is the type of woman to wear her heart upon her sleeve. It is a rare trait to be seen among the higher classes of society, but he is willing to admit that it is refreshing to interact with such honesty. Though he is only a servant to a nobleman, his is a world of deceptions as well in which he is trained to catch the deceptions that surround his Prince. This woman, on the other hand, has never attempted to hide her thoughts from him. With a single glance he can accurately gauge her mood and thoughts.

The initial flush of her cheeks had been evidence of her alarm, but the rosy shade that was adopted after he had spoken suggested embarrassment. Say what he would about her, after his initial lecture concerning what was expected of her she had put forth commendable effort into her role. It was likely that she felt some discomfort in being comparison to him. Her pout was a sign of her displeasure at being caught unaware, and the furrow of her eyebrows likely indication of her frustrated sulk. It was doubtful that she recognized just how much her expressions gave away.

"Can I come with you?" It takes Claude a moment to register the question. When it does, the implications of what she wants are not lost on him. The butler is no fool; simply because he has not fallen in love before doesn't mean he can't see it. When she had first arrived, she and the Prince hadn't been in love; that much had been clear. Lately, though, something had shifted between the two. He watches her when she thinks no one is looking. Her expression is one of a woman that wants to laugh and cry all at once.

The smirk that had played so heavily upon his lips vanishes in place of his professional mask. Decorum would require that he turn her request away so as not to distract the prince, but her gaze is so blatantly hopeful that he has to turn away for a moment. To escort her to the prince would be to draw a sweet smile from her lips; one that was not his to have. Even if it were only for a moment, Prince Wilfred's smile is all it would take to content her. The thought is almost painful.

Clearing his throat, Claude steps around her with perfect balance, lifting the tray over her head with such ease it is as she isn't there. He does not need to glance over his shoulder to catch the dejected expression upon her face or the slumping of her shoulders to know that she is disappointed. Despite that, she does not say anything. They each understand that the request was frivolous. "His Highness is likely busy…" Any semblance of subtle mockery is gone from his voice as he begins to stride down the hall, firmly set into a professional demeanor.

At the end of the hall he pauses and spares a single glance over his shoulder. She has not moved. "Miss, is it that you have finally fallen deaf or have you chosen to ignore me?" At this she is clearly confused. When she turns to him her expression has been replaced with an endearing befuddlement that draws a small smile from him. "His Highness is busy and so will have very few moments to spare. If you insist upon dawdling, I will insist upon informing him that his tea has chilled due to your laziness."

It is as he is about to leave Prince Wilfred's study does he pause. The two are so enraptured in one another and their conversation that he highly doubts they will notice his absence when he does take his leave. In paying him little mind, they unintentionally give him one of few precious moments to break away from his role as a butler and to instead stand as a man. Not even he is perfect. If he does not indulge in moments of weaknesses he fears that he will break more than he already has.

Her head is bent as she speaks to Prince Wilfred, but from the entrance he can view her perfectly. It is obvious from the way that her lips continuously curl that she cannot fight back the smile that being in his presence causes. Locks of hair frame her face and his fingers twitch with the impulse to brush them away. She is a beautiful, but it is her eyes that hurt him most. She gazes at Prince Wilfred with adoration; her eyes say that he is the only man she can see. Claude is nothing compared to that.

Each person in the kingdom is born to a role and a duty. His is to serve and protect a man that was born to be a prince, the knight in shining armor that every little girl dreams of. Before his happiness must come that of his prince's. Such is the way of the world and such will always be the way of the world. He cannot alter his responsibilities or abandon his position simply because he was dealt the lesser deal in life. More importantly, he cannot have the woman whose fate it is to love Prince Wilfred.

Claude cannot make her happy in the same manner of Prince Wilfred. He is only a lowly steward. In the romantic fairytales of old, it is not his role. Heroines do not fall in love with the men that belong to the background, men whose roles are only as secondary characters in the cruel play of fate. Men in his position may fall in love with her, love her as dearly as their prince or perhaps more, but they do not win the girl. He is a butler, not a prince, and so he must settle for what he can.

He allows himself only a few seconds more, heartbeats that do not last long enough but are an eternity all the same, to imprint the look of love upon her face though it is not his. She hides such a fragile beauty about herself when she looks to Prince Wilfred with an expression of blissful love. Claude is sure that Prince Wilfred, no fool of a man, reflects the same expression, but he can barely acknowledge the other when she is smiling so sweetly. Commoner though she may be, she is a princess in her gentle affection.

Claude is not a prince, and so he will cherish what few moments he can take from this untouchable princess.


End file.
